


Starblind

by takaraikarin



Category: EXILE (JPOP), Exile Tribe, The Second from Exile
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Pining, contemplative piece, where the fuck are my slash fans at in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:24:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takaraikarin/pseuds/takaraikarin
Summary: Shokichi has a way of doing hero-worship that was so genuine and shockingly self-revealing that Takahiro almost wanted to cringe.





	

If he got any more stars in his eyes he’ll go blind, Takahiro thought in passing and instantly felt shitty for it. Beside him, Shokichi was still looking at Atsushi-san in his recording booth, enraptured and unblinking, oblivious to any treacherously disparaging thoughts from his fellow vocalists.

Takahiro really isn’t the kind of idiot that thinks hero-worship is ridiculous. Hell, he’s surrounded by inspirational people from all sorts of background, it would be harder *not* to develop respect or to look up to them, but Shokichi has a way of doing it that was so genuine and shockingly self-revealing that Takahiro almost wanted to cringe . Shokichi’s hero worshiping feels more like an over-exposure on his own self, like a picture taken in too high definition where you can see pores and faint scars and brittle looking veins under the skin. He’d gush about Atsushi-san –about his voice, his looks, his clothes, and has Takahiro mentioned his voice?— and the only thing Takahiro could hear would be how much of a shame it is that Shokichi himself doesn’t sound that way, doesn’t look like that, doesn’t carry himself like Atsushi-san does. 

Takahiro’s pretty sure the other guy doesn’t realize it when he’s doing that, but how could he possibly not be, when he’s that obvious? Then there’s the affection dripping from his lips in his extolment, and it felt like overhearing a private conversation sometimes. Takahiro isn’t one to blush in anyway, but at times like that it made him want to. He sometimes contemplated what shushing him with a palm over his mouth, saying ‘dude, you know your crush is showing, right?’ would do, but he’s not that cruel. The lack of self-awareness is painfully clear in him, point blank confrontation would probably put damages on parts Takahiro couldn’t even begin to imagine. Who knows how deep those affection goes. 

In the recording booth Atsushi-san was finishing of the last of his solo parts, readying for the B flat at the end of the verse. 

He hit the note clean, high and stable, and the sound engineers gave him thumbs up from outside the glass partition. Beside him, Shokichi exhaled softly, and Takahiro winced at the way it spelled out longing. So much for trying to be tactful about it. Luckily the guy didn’t notice his insensitive ass. 

Atsushi-san came out of the booth slightly out of breath, their producers waiting on a high five for that glorious last take and he slapped their open palms one by one until it came to Takahiro and Shokichi’s turn at the back of the room. And Shokichi stood straighter, a bit awkwardly, waiting for his turn to high five his idol. Takahiro felt like he’s getting second-hand restlessness just by standing next to him. When they high fived, Atsushi-san smiled at him, and Shokichi smiled back, obviously in awe. ‘That was great,’ he gushed, his voice tender like a bruise, like he’s choking, like it’s physically painful to be so close to the sun, and Takahiro had to look away. He felt like he was interfering an intimate moment.

He wondered if Atsushi-san noticed. 

He wondered if it’s possible for Atsushi-san to not notice.

He wondered if anybody could help the guy uncurl, let it out. It must be exhausting feeling anything that intensely.

He wondered if he’d ever feel that intensity, like a fist around your throat over something, anything, anyone. Shrugging, he thought that he probably just wasn’t wired that way. 

 

**Pause.**


End file.
